


But all mornings must end

by orphan_account



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Odd Writingstyle, dude idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaylos week day 3</p>
<p>There's a thief, and in the morning smoke, when there is no blood in the air, he can see a silhouette in the window of the giant house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But all mornings must end

There's a thief, and in the morning smoke, when there is no blood in the air, he can see a silhouette in the window of the giant house. He can see it move, frantically, running around with a broom, with a cloth, with a bucket. 

The thief knows who the silhouette is, but he cannot admit it. Because then he can't be there, he can't, not in the early morning when all the others sleep and it's only him and the silhouette awake. 

The thief likes to sit on the roof of the big house, just beneath one of the smallest windows in the house. From there he can see almost the whole island, and the pinkish lights of the sun who is rising. 

Sometimes, if the silhouette is brave, or the Devil is away, it will open the window-- only a little, only enough so that they can talk, never enough to see each other. Because if they saw each other, they would be forced to admit they know each other. And then there would be no more shared mornings.

Then, when the window is open, they can talk about the stars and the moon and sun and the sea, and never about blood or bones or coldness or hunger. They can talk about hope, even if none of them has much of it left. 

Once, the Devil had woken up while they had been talking, and she had screamed for the silhouette, but luckily she hadn't used its name, for then it all been ruined. Her shrill voice had only said "Boy," and the thief still remembers how the silhouette had flinched, how its hands had trembled when it closed the window.

The thief hates the Devil, and he knows the silhouette does too. Once, the silhouette had told him about a dream it had had. Where it had run away from the Devil, and jumped all over the sea that kept the island from Auradon. The thief wishes with all his being that the dream will come true. And that he can be by the silhouette's side, and leap all the way to the land of the heroes.

 

And if the thief is lucky, he gets a token passed through the opening by a cold and pale hand, somethings valuable to give to his father. The thief is grateful, but sad, for he knows that the next morning the silhouette's movements will be even more frantic, and the silhouette itself will seem almost skinnier, even if the thief knows that not eating for one day doesn't change ones physical appearance. (But he knows that not eating for many days does)

And if the silhouette is lucky, the thief gives him food that he finds, for the silhouette is always hungry, but so is the thief, and it is as if he gives the silhouette a sliver of his own happiness. (But the thief can steal more food, even if it's rotten, even if it's stale)

But all mornings must end, and the thief must go the painful transformation to Jay, teenage heartthrob and feared by the lesser villains. Jay, who doesn't care about anything or anyone, "there's no 'team' in 'I'" (Maybe there's an 'us' in 'hope'")

If Jay sees a little boy named Carlos get pushed down the stairs, he doesn't think about it for the whole day. The image of Carlos with shades of blue and green all over the little skin that he shows and even more on the skin he hides isn't burned inside his hollow skull. 

He doesn't see when Carlos flinches when someone shouts, because if Jay knows who Carlos is, it's only because his fist has collided with the boy's cheekbones. 

He doesn't recognize his hands or his voice, for surely Jay has more important things to think about than cold hands with a light touch of freckles on, and voices that sounds so different as a near whisper. He laughs when there's soap in Carlos' hair, because he doesn't know that he has been washing since before the birds sang, and neither does he care. 

But if the thief's voice is softer the next morning, or if the silhouette is silently sobbing, then Jay stays silent about it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, and weird, but um. I didn't have time to do anything else so. Have a good day!


End file.
